Where Night is Blind
by AmandaFaye
Summary: Christine Daae's great, great granddaughter learns the truth about the Phantom. JS, naturally.
1. Default Chapter

**Where Night is Blind**

**I own nothing**

Opening night, playing the role she'd dreamed of for what seemed her entire life, and now she, Sarah Christine Williams, was about to be Christine Daae, her great several times over grandmother, but that fact was a secret. It was also more of a reason for her to aspire to be an actress than her mother's career, despite what Karen and most everyone else thought.

Why would she want to emulate the woman who abandoned her, Linda Katherine Williams? But Christine, with her she could empathize. When Sarah auditioned for the role, the star, "Erik" had read lines with her from the final scene they shared, the one in which she rescued Raoul by allowing herself to love Erik for just one precious moment, but it was not the Phantom she saw or even Sean, the man playing him.

Her mind and heart had seen HIM-

_Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave- look I offer you your dreams.._

There were few days she didn't hate the fact that she had left him, and every one of those moments had coalesced into her performance, winning for her at least one dream. Just as he promised.

Her "mother" wasn't even there for her on the most important night to date in her short life, but Linda had sent a gift, one she was dying to open, wishing she'd had it before now. Christine's journal. The messenger brought it just before she had to leave to go to the theatre, leaving her no time to read it at all.

When the performance ended and the applause faded, Sarah felt both totally drained and higher than a kite. Yet, something, someone was missing..

At the earliest possible moment, she fled both the cast party and her dad and Karen's mini celebration, pleading tiredness, loss of adrenaline, or whatever.

When she reached her apartment, a florist's box was on the doorstep, that seemed unusual- didn't they require something to be signed before leaving the flowers? Shrugging, she picked up the thin box and went in to open it.

A single blood red rose lay among white paper; unlike most florists' packaged offerings, it had no wire and the vauge scent of that awful preservative spray was not clinging to it. The note inside, written in an elegant hand unfamiliar to her eyes, was spectacularly unhelpful. "Bravissima," was the single word scrawled upon it.

Shrugging it off, Sarah decided to just put the flower in water, pausing to sniff it as she did so. It was unlike any rose she'd ever smelled, but the difference was undefinable.

Who sent it? nagged at her mind, but no answers were forthcoming, then the mystery was dismissed when her eyes fell on the diary laying beside her bed, waiting for her.

Too hyped still to sleep, Sarah made a cup of gingermint tea, scrubbed the last remnants of make up off her face, then curled up under her downy comforter, tea in one hand, book in the other. Her rose was in a vase beside the bed, yet the aroma reached her. It was a most unusual flower in all respects.

Ever since the hero of a favorite book had turned out to be the killer in a mystery, Sarah had taken to checking the last pages of a book before the first. She did so now, even though there should be no risk of a recurrance. The words were in French, fortunately, she had opted for that over Spanish.

_I will not be here much longer. Raoul tells me I am being foolish - again- oh, he does not say again, but I hear it under his words. Poor man, he does not want to admit it, but I do not fear. _

_I hear the opera house is re-opening soon, and Raoul has asked if I should like to go when it does- I wonder if he hopes I will say yes or no? Little matter, I won't be here when it does- but the rumors have begun again, even though months lie between now and then. Everyone is remembering Erik. But, of course, I never forgot him. _

_The rumors are so ugly, much more so than whatever was beneath his mask - I dare not contradict them, it would hurt Raoul so- and I do love him. But they are only that, rumors, ugly words. I will use my vanity to hope that someday someone will wish to read the words of the once great Christine Daae de Chagny, read and learn the truth about Erik, the Phantom of the Opera. _

_Cowardly, yes, yes. I know. It is the best I can do, coward though I be. _

_Years before I came into Maman Giry's home, she had taken in another lost soul, a man she found lying stunned near the entrance to the tunnels beneath the opera populare. He would not give her his name- he said the scars he had would heal someday, and he did not want his name tied to such a horror. Perhaps his claim was true- when I knew him, he wore a half mask, Maman said that it covered his face in the beginning. Of all those who ever knew the wandering soul she named Erik for some private reason of her own, perhaps, giving an Englishman a French name would irritate him to reveal the right one?- only she saw his true face- but once, when Meggie and I pestered her, she told me that he appeared to be half bird and half man under the masque. He even confirmed this- asking if I knew the story of the princess who saved her brothers from being swans forever- or ravens. Of course I did, one of them was forced to take a shirt lacking one sleeve, so had a wing. He said some such thing had happened to his face, but la, he should have known better than to try and change forms when injured. _

_He was, a proud man, despite his scars whatever they might be. A silly tale was his way of explaining why his face must be hidden. Poor soul. _

_Poor- ha. He was wealthy- he bought the opera house- so why ever would he burn it as the gossip mongers say. He said it was with fey gold- so I asked, - are you Lancelot then- the Fairy Knight Morgaine Le Fey wanted- did she mark you?_

_Perhaps he was, Erik grew angry with me and sent me away- but then, the next day when I did not come for my lesson, he sent for me and scolded me for not coming. _

_I was pleased he was not angry any longer. But oh, not much of what went on between the Girys, Erik and I is worth noting. Not at all. Boring lessons to any but myself surely. And to him. They amused Erik, saved him from boredom. _

_Then, the pitiful fools who ran the opera house for him, good accountants but no ear at all for music, brought in Mistress Katerina, a diva to be their star. I wonder who did she sleep with to get the job. After one opera- Erik declared that if she continued to be the star- he would take her and throw her in an oubliette under the deepest, dankest marsh with an echo so she would be tortured by her own voice forever, and that would not be long enough._

Sarah stopped reading, her breath caught in her throat.

_**It's an oubliette- -- I knew that- oh- don't sound so smart, you don't even know what an oubliette is- it's a place you put folks to forget about them...**_

Oubliette- that word had convinced her of the reality of her "dream". She'd never heard that word until Hoggle had used it. She still recalled the look of surprise on her teacher's face, when Sarah, and apathetic student for the blander topics, had known the word a month later when going over vocabulary words.

It was- merely an unusual coincidence.

Back to reading.

_When Katerina came down with laryngitis, the Opera Ghost was most delighted. I wonder, was he an alchemist- could he have affected her throat? In any case, he arranged for me to perform in her stead, the very night the new patron, no, not Raoul, but yes, his father, attended, bringing with him his son, Raoul. He did arrange to meet me afterwards, and from that moment, my heart was divided between my phantom and the man whose face was now dear to me. No, we were not childhood sweethearts, and his father was rather scandalized, his son and an actress? The Count was more angry than Erik over the romance, but that is less of a story. Erik merely pointed out that I would have to choose which wish I desired, both was not even in his power to grant. _

_Perhaps that lead to his manipulation of the managers, who truly were frightened of him, silly idiots, into having a masqued ball to celebrate the new diva, not Katerina- me. Erik did not kill her, but her career did die at his hand. I doubt anyone forced to hear her screeching would call it an untimely death. _

_I had not desire to go- knowing that it would be a long affair, with me as the prized cow on display. To be seen and stared at, touched when possible. Oh, he could be so cruel. _

Unbidden Sarah's mind dragged her thoughts away yet again.

**I CAN BE CRUEL. **

_**A ballroom, filled with masked dancers, except she was not hidden behind one, and he was not either, once their eyes met. **_

_Erik assured me that everyone was not who they really were at one of those things- even if I was recognized- and how could I fail to be- those silly costumes were not much disguise- it was not the thing to acknowledge seeing through a masque- rude. When, I wondered, had that stopped anyone? _

_It was the simplest of things to know who was who amid the revellers- half masks, even full ones did little to hide who one was. Yet, Erik did seem right, as always, damn him. No one called anyone else by name. But it was not very interesting. I did so hope Raoul would arrive soon, and looked for him diligently. Then, I saw him- no - not Raoul. I'm sure it was Erik, a cloaked man moving among the dancers, somehow apart from them. Like a few there, his face was hidden under a full mask, but he had a sense of purpose to his gait that none of the others did. I could not look for anyone else once my eyes fell on him, the world ceased to exist when he came to me and our dance began. Then, he moved away, suddenly, and Raoul was there, asking me who I danced with, recalling a bit too late that he was not supposed to know who I was, nor was I supposed to know him, much less my prior dance partner. _

_Look as I might, the cloaked man did not reappear, and when I asked, Erik dismissed my question. He had no desire to mingle with the madding crowd. Maddening crowd, rather. _

_The friction began soon after. Raoul demanded that his bride quit the opera- when our marriage was still over a year away! He thought doing so would remove the taint of my profession. That angered the opera ghost. No one, and he repeated, no one, dictated how he was to run HIS opera house. His desire was that I remain singing until my wedding. But- he would allow me to attend to the necessities of the preparation- if I must. _

_How generous, I seethed aloud. _

_"I am noted for my generousity," he agreed. _

Memories of her own arose once more

_**I warn you- up until now I have been generous- but I can be cruel... I have reordered time, I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you. I'm exhausted from living up to your expectations, isn't that generous?**_

No. No.

_Those fools who managed his opera had given Katerina a contract, so she remained in the chorus and as first understudy to me. Not that she was given the opportunity to perform, but still, she held court quite often as if she were a star yet. Her diminished status did not lessen the number of young and less than young men swarming around her. One of them began to be most persistant, making such dramatic declarations of his love, violently protesting that without her he would die, that I - and many of the other girls, were rather afraid of him. Erik's banning him, through a letter to the management, did not help matters any. If anything, worsened them. _

_That last night of the opera populare, it was a horrible, horrible one. The gossip does not exaggerate that. Raoul had demanded, again, that I quit. Erik was equally insistent that I not. Katerina had had the poor grace to have a roue with her suitors, she was in a snit over being passed by once again for the prima dona role in the next performance for which rehearsals would begin the next week, and took it out on them. _

_Her yelling and their moaning echoed throughout, even to the underground tunnels. It was maddening to Erik. In an effort to scatter them like insects, he snapped a cord so that one of the props would fall, near them, but not in a way that actually endangered them. Madame Giry scolded him for that- he would only make the gossip worse! _

_The ardent young man declared after that that Katerina must come away with him, to which she shrieked that she would prefer death to being around his smarmy self one minute more. On that note, she flounced away. _

_It all appeared to be at an end. _

_Until, during an aria, the young man tossed himself from the rafters- he had gotten up there by knocking the man who managed the ropes and whatnot out. He, of course, died on impact, and I will not describe the - how it all looked. Shrieks of the 'opera ghost' and "the phantom" filled the audience. A stampede began. Someone knocked over a candle, perhaps more than one. The fires began then. Raoul was in the audience- he could see me, until Erik left his shadows, and grabbed me, intending to take not only me, but Meg and our mother to safety. He was afraid for us, and pursued us, naturally, even to the secret tunnels. _

_We were some distance ahead, and Meg was rather hysterical. Her screams resounded, surely panicking Raoul a bit. Madame knew how sensitive Erik's ears were better than any of us, how her child's shrieks would pain him, so, as she knew the tunnels well as he, she took Meg ahead. _

_Leaving me alone with the Phantom for Raoul to find. Raoul found the way rough going, this I heard much later. He fell often in the darkness, and nearly drowned in the subterranian river. Erik heard his pursuit and lead me back to Raoul, who had inhaled smoke as well as water, and was a bit out of his head by this point. I was nearly as hysterical as Meg, I do admit,and begged Erik to save him. He agreed, reluctantly, it seemed, since I loved him, and lead us out of there. When we were near safety, he told me to go and leave him. _

_"But, what of you?" I wondered. "Please, come with us."_

_"Do you think that you love me? Foolish little girl. Someday, long after you are gone, in another you will live on, someone of your bloodline. She will I love, and no other. But, I do love you, Christine, just not as you wish. Go, now, and forget."_

_I had no choice, Raoul was hurt, and needed a doctor. So, I did as he asked, and left. _

_But - I did not forget. I never forgot. _

_By this time, he must be dead. I never saw his face enough to judge his age, but he was older than I, and my end is near. Yet, if it is possible- perhaps he is from the undying lands and lives to keep his word. He would live for no other reason if that was the only one. _

There was no more. Christine must have died shortly afterwards.

It was not the story that was popular, but it held a ring of truth, and enough of the fantasy was near to the reality that it was not hard to make the jump between the two.

On that note, Sarah went to sleep.

Her mind rushed to another place and time, where she was both herself and another. At first, it seemed she was in the masquerade scene of her play, but it was more like the one in her great great and more great grandmother's tale. She looked for someone, but not Raoul, and not Ben- the young man playing him.

Then, she was sixteen, and moving through a room of masked dancers, laughing, it seemed at her. Looking for... for...

The man in the cloak.

She dared to push it back, to see his face, it was not supposed to be concealed...

For a half second, she saw, it was him. It was him, though she could not say his name, could not think it...

Music whirled around her..

_Remember me, remember me...I'll be there for you, when your world falls down..._

And the dream ended, breaking her heart.


	2. The truth

Disclaimer of P I applies here too.

_Sometimes it seems if I just dream, somehow you might be here. _

Sarah went through her day feeling as if something was missing.

However, her performance lacked nothing. "Raoul" protested afterwards that he felt like a heel for stealing her from "Erik".

"She's just a good actress," Sean smiled. "For she knows that my heart belongs to Mary."

"I- was just - reliving a dream," Sarah said so softly not even she was sure if she'd said it.

Her mysterious admirer did not send a gift this night though, and she did not get home until late, "Meg" and a few other girls persuaded her to come along to a celebration they'd scheduled for the second night of the performance so that when they celebrated they'd be sure of it actually being something worth celebrating, without the opening night glamor.

"You look totally exhausted," Therese (Meg) noted after an hour or two. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bugged you into coming along. I just didn't want you to feel left you, Sarah. You always seem so- alone."

"Thanks, Terry," Sarah smiled. "You won't think I'm antisocial for taking off?"

"No, sweetie. Though I should kill you for leaving me here with 'Carlotta'." The two girls grinned. Carlotta, really, Katherine, that seemed ironic in light of what Sarah now knew; was as much of a pain off stage as she was in character.

"Well, I'll see if I can find an oubliette to toss her in," Sarah promised.

"A what?" Therese blinked.

"Somewhere you put people to forget them," Sarah replied.

"Ooh, you're lady justice tonight."

Both knew that Katty as they had dubbed her would absolutely die if she was forgotten; she was a vampire for attention.

Sarah grinned and shrugged.

"You did invite her..."

"It was a cast party, and she is part of it, unfortunately. "

"Least she doesn't have to act much, " Sarah smiled ruefully, then left.

Going home, she thought about the diary. Something about the real Erik seemed so familiar. It wasn't because he was the prototype of the character she worked with and other incarnations of that same character. If anything, he was very little like how the cinema and theater had portrayed the Phantom.

A fallen prince, not a wild boy kept caged in a sideshow.

A man who was healing, not scarred since birth.

An enigma and proud, yes, both were.

One content with the role of teacher and mentor, subliminating whatever love he had until some later date.

Not a madman driven by passion that both must and must not be denied.

A bird beneath the mask.

The owl watching her perform in the park.

The masked ball in her dreams.

So lost was she in thought that only a miracle kept Sarah from being in a wreck on the way home.

No surprises, only bills waited for her when she reached her door.

Life seemed so mundane just then.

"It's your own fault," Sarah chided herself. "He did offer you your dreams."

Until now, she thought she had them, but if so, that was entirely too sad. Christine surely felt that way too. Some Raoul's came off better than others, but rarely did he not seem to be a dandified wannabe, who had some great lines to sing.

Yet - in fiction, even that was a wiser choice than a psychotic genius who killed at will.

In reality, it was a poor choice, a bland nobleman over a tormented ... king.

Why did she keep imposing Jareth's face upon Erik's in her mind?

Why did that seem so natural and right? Surely Jareth was not alive over a century ago.

But Erik had implied he would live for a long, long time.

It's only forever, not long at all.

"I'm going insane," Sarah sighed. "Or just too tired. "

Not to mention disappointed that there was no rose from a phantom or king.

Not even in her dreams. All she dreamed of was being in La Femme Nikita with La Croix from Forever Knight trying to kill her with exploding apple pies while the irritating little boy from her sixth grade math class hid her in the library during a thunderstorm.

The only relation that had to the man of her dreams was his song that said "Makes no sense at all... makes no sense at all."

During the middle of the next night's performance, life got in the way of fiction. Between Masquerade and Don Juan, Sean's beeper went off. Normally, beepers were not allowed backstage, but his wife was pregant with twins- nine months, though Mary was sure it was ten. When it went off, that meant the twins had finally decided to make an appearance.

"I've got to go! The kids- they're on the way, finally. " The cool, dispassionately passionate phantom was gone, replaced by a worried dad to be in heavy make-up and silk.

"Don't worry," Mr. Matthews, the stage manager assured the cast. "We have a backup plan. Go take care of your wife."

Sarah was pretty sure he meant the understudy, Chuck. His voice was not as strong, and he did have his own role, but shuffling could be done, though intermission might need to last a bit longer than anticipated.

So, "Christine" did not have to fake surprise when "Don Juan" was replaced by a stranger to sing Point of No Return. Yet, she did not know who it was. Chuck Welles, Sean's understudy, looked enough like him to be his brother, this man was not him. Though she could see him, there almost seemed to be a veil that kept her from really being able to SEE him.

Professioanlism and haunting memories kept her on course though as she was abducted and taken...

Underground...

To the true point of no return..

"Beautiful creature of darkness... God grant me the courage to show you that you are not alone!" Sarah sang, meaning it as she never had before as she kissed this stranger, tears running down her face. His eyes closed before she could really look at them, but for a moment, she could see them..

Really see.

His voice had been so familiar as well.

But he was gone immediately after curtain calls finished.

When Sarah reached her home again, a decision had been reached. Too many things demanded her attention and acknowledgement. As a great man once said, when all that is not true is eliminated, what remains is the truth, no matter how improbable.

"Goblin King, Goblin king, where ever you may be," she whispered in the darkness.

Suddenly, the light came on around her.

"Sarah."

She whirled. "It's you- you're the Phantom of the Opera."

His majesty lolled across one of her scant chairs as if it was his throne. ''Well, you did need a rescue. I think one of the children will be named for you, partly. Sean and his Mary are quite fond of you. Sarah Theresa I think is their intention."

"That was you then," Sarah affirmed, sitting down slowly on the nearest chair, which was unfortunately, a bean bag chair, so she kept on sinking far lower than she intended.

"I think it might have been one of the finest performances of that musical ever," Jareth agreed. His modesty had not suffered to increase in the last decade or so obviously. "You are either an excellent actress or good kisser, my dear."

"Why not both?"

"I'm willing to test the theory," he smiled impishly.

"Are you the Phantom?" she asked.

"I was tonight, for part of the show, I haven't decided if I will fill in for your 'Erik' until he returns or let Mr. Welles take over."

Slapping the beanbag, a most unsatisfactory exercise, Sarah sighed, "That is not what I meant, and this you know. Did you know Christine Daae- my great- great- I'm not sure exactly how many greats, grandmother? I know that Erik was not the true name of the Phantom, just one that Madame Giry gave him."

"So, Christine wrote down the truth?" Jareth asked by way of answer. "Tell me, does that mean you read the full story? Did you read what the Phantom promised Miss Daae before sending her off to forget him- which she obviously did not do?''

Sarah's eyes dropped, answering for her.

"Does that frighten you?"

"No, " she lied.

"Really? How foolish. "

"Why is that foolish?"

"Because such love demands your life."

"You don't even know me, your majesty," Sarah stated, daring to look at him. "How can you say you love me?"

"I said so before you were born, little girl," he said icily. "And no- anger does not negate my love. We are given one vision in our lives- the Fey are. To see our destiny, and our destiny is to love. It was you who I saw, and tracing the silver line of fate lead back to your great several times over granmere. So, when I lost a duel and had to flee, it was to her I ran. The ways are as ordained as the ends, you see. The world needed Christine and Erik's tale, even distorted. Especially distorted, actually." He allowed himself a smile at that.

"You created the gossip."

Surprised at her percipience, Jareth nodded. "Yes. It was useful. In many dimensions."

Sarah was silent then until she asked, "So, who'd you lose to? And how'd you get back home?"

It was some progress. Therefore, he seized on it. My father set up rivalries between his sons, it was the worst between my older brother and myself. We wanted the same realm, and fought for it. I lost, which resulted in exile."

"But you went back- didn't you? I mean, you are the Goblin King..."

"I have never returned to the fey realms. My mother's dowry lands were still hers to grant, it was hardly her fault that as the youngest daughter she had the worst lands. None of my siblings wanted the goblin realm. It was largely untamed. Completely wild, more so than when you were there. When I had healed enough to master it, she sent for me, finished the healing, in defiance of my brother who had killed my father by then, and ceded the land to me, in return for her safety. " He paused for a grim moment, then gently added. "The children who are taken are the joy of her life. She has, however, been pestering me incessantly for a century to have one of my own."

"What about your brother? Does he still want to kill you?" Sarah asked in concern.

"Possibly, but if he did, he would be obligated to take the goblins over, and live there part of the year. Something he does not wish to do." Morose amusement flitted across Jareth's face.

"Did you love her?" Sarah asked.

"She was a shadow," Jareth replied, turning his face away from her.

"A shadow?"

"Of you. You could only exist if I allowed her love for that idiot to flourish. Even though I'd have gladly tossed him and Katerina into the Bog."

"He is my ancestor," Sarah reminded in amusement.

"We all have faults; I would hope you'd not judge me by my brother."

"I don't know you well enough to judge you, by any standard," she sighed. "Much less marry you, destiny or not."

Jareth turned, protest written on his face, but then, seeing the determination in her face, backed off. "Very well. "

"You're giving up?"

Why did that disappoint her?

"Oh, no. I grant you are correct; I know you, but the reverse is untrue. So, you will get to know me, then I'll marry you."


	3. There inside your mind

I STILL OWN NOTHING. APOLOGIES TO READERS FOR DELAYING- I HAD TO GET THOM OUT OF HIS COUSIN'S GUEST ROOM IN ANOTHER REALITY.

Sarah blinked. "You take much for granted- how do you know I'll want to marry you once I know you? I might want to toss you in your own bog. Headfirst."

The same infuriating smile he wore when they first met played across his majesty's face. "I really should say I'd like to see you try, but you just might be able to do it- since I did promise to fulfill your dreams. Let me give you one reason."

The kiss he gave her might have been more than one reason, but with the lack of oxygen, Sarah lost the ability to count or really care about counting.

Free again, she fought to look unmoved, suspecting that it was a losing battle. "Okay, there's some appeal there- but you can't build a life on that."

Jareth agreed. "No, you can't - but it is a reason to begin trying to. I think you have missed a more obvious question."

Just one? She was donig better than she thought. "Okay- how about this- how will I get to know you? I can't just pop Underground, leaving my life in shambles until I decide what to do- and wouldn't things get kind of - " she thought of the goblins, "chaotic if you left your subjects kingless for that long."

"How long do you think it will take?"

"How should I know? It depends on you too. Have you done much dating? Besides, people put on their good face to date, then when you get married, it's not the same. You wake up married to a stranger."

"Neither of us is your mother- or father," Jareth pointed out, lifting her face to look up at him. "If it reassures you, as king, I am bound to speak truthfully, and live so. "

"Your brother also?"

"The oath means nothing to him- he is bound more deeply to dark magic, otherwise my father would live."

Sarah was glad that the bitterness in his voice was not directed at her. At that moment, she would have given much to abandon sense and embrace the man in her living room, to comfort him, even to agree to what he wanted. Logic held her in check.

"In answer to your other question, I can stay here long as need be- as before. My mother is a capable queen-regent. It will be somewhat taxing, if many children are in need of rescue, but she can handle it. However, she has stated a desire to meet you, at the earliest possible opportunity. "

"Where?"

"She is not fond of journeying to your world," Jareth answered. "It is rather loud for her tastes. Two, you do need to see more of the lands that are mine, and will be yours- should you consent."

Sarah shook her head, impatiently pushing her too long hair out of her eyes. "No, where will you stay? The guest room isn't exactly made up, and it could get kind of- well.."

"I thought your age was more relaxed about that sort of thing!" Jareth stated dryly. "Such a pity."

Red heat flushed Sarah's face, until she saw the twinkle in his eyes. "You're teasing me. That's - that's cruel."

"Am I? " He paused, letting her wonder. "Yes, dear girl, that is so. But , I did warn you, I can be cruel. Just as you can be. Sarah, I can move from world to world in a heartbeat- so your guestroom, ready or not, is not necessary. If you do accept, " and the if sounded as if he was humoring her, "you can study the physics of dimensional transnavigation and location to your heart's content. It is rather dry though. But- there's all the time in the world for that. "

His words had the effect of cold water. "That's the thing. I don't have all the time in the world. Since you lived over a century of my time ago, probably much longer," his nod confirmed that, "but you're not decrepit..."

"Thank you for that."

"Aargh. I- if I lived that long- I would be - decrepit. I'd make Yoda look good, but I won't. I'll be ancient...and probably have no mind left at all in a short time, to your way of thinking."

She had turned away, not able to meet his eyes, not wanting him to see the disappointed disillusionment in hers. With gentle force, Jareth turned Sarah to face him. "Somewhere in all those boring physics books is a text on why none of what you just said is true. I can't explain it to you in less than ten hours, and I'm not sure even then- it wasn't my best subject. However, suffice it to say, you will not age and decay in my world. Needless to say, the sooner you make a choice, the sooner your age will be frozen- oh not actually frozen. Your mind will develop, but not decay. You will not degenerate. Granted, there are probably about seventy five years of remedial courses for you to take, history of the Fey lands, politics, I should apologize for forcing that on you, I suppose."

"You're kidding?" Sarah glanced in the mirror. "Can I cut my hair?"

Jareth blinked. "Uhm- there's no law against it- but why?" He rather liked it.

"It's a pain, but wigs are more so, so since so many parts require long hair.."

"We can consider it- but not too short?" The king hid his smile. He was winning.

Of course, that was to be expected.

"Okay, I'll get to know you," Sarah sighed. "The how of it is still up for grabs."

"Do you recall the lyrics of some of the songs in your play?"

"Of course," Sarah laughed. "I can even sing them."

"Which one - drew you most to the part?"

"You've been reading my mind!" she accused.

"No- just watching you, and I know which ones you sing the most, or hum."

That made sense. "And in this labyrinth, where night is blind- the Phantom of the opera is there- inside your mind.." she sang softly. "But only after, after we met that is. Before- All I ask of you was my favorite song, anywhere. "

"Rather reminds me of another song," Jareth nodded.

"Yeah," Sarah agreed with him. "If that clock hadn't been there, I'd still be there."

"No, you wouldn't," Jareth smiled. "I'd have awoken you long ago, to live something better than dreams. But, back on topic, with your permission, I can - temporarily rewire the REM centre of your brain- where you dream, so you can see something of my past when you dream, at the speed of dreams. "

"Something- rewire?" Trepedition crept into her voice.

"Nothing to worry about. Something- just what you'd see if you had been there. If I can't see your thoughts, then fair is fair. You can't see into mine either. Rewire- I won't cut into your head. Just a small psi link superimposed on your mind. When you feel you know enough, it will fade out of its own accord, actually, of your own accord."

"Can I talk to you as well- or just that?" Sarah blurted out.

Jareth kept his expression careful. "I rather hoped you would wish for both. Just say when."


	4. Immortality

"When," Sarah said, trying to look serious, but a tiny smile dancing on her face.

"Then, I suggest you go to sleep," Jareth said.

"I thought we were going to talk.." Sarah hated the whiny note in her own voice.

"We are, but you need to rest."

With a snap of his fingers, her clothing tranformed into a very old fashioned nightgown, one she well could picture her great great grandmother wearing.

"This is lovely. Where are my clothes?" she asked sarcastically in exasperation.

"In your closet- clean. By the by, no clothing in my land requires dry cleaning."

"Lovely - so you have all the modern conveniences- just not clothes?" she asked, touching the white linen with a grimace.

"Yes, we do have quite a few modern marvels- just powered by- magic is the best word for now. It's really- well if I want to bore you to sleep, which I don't..what is wrong with the gown?"

"It's so-- so - prissy."

"It also has absolutely nothing to be considered tempting about it- and will keep you cool or warm as need be,'' his majesty returned with a degree of judicious smugness.

"Really?"

"Well, okay, the first part is rather an exaggeration, but the latter is true as true can be. Now, go to sleep."

"I'm too wired," Sarah sighed.

"If I tuck you in and sing you to sleep will you attempt it?" Jareth asked, restraining a laugh.

Pretending to consider, Sarah nodded. "Okay- but I'm not sure how relaxing your prescence is."

Deftly picking her up, Jareth popped from the living room to her bedroom and dumped her without ceremony onto a huge feather bed. The only problem was, she had a rather narrow twin bed with a second hand mattress.

"Your bed was a disgrace. Courtesy of the Goblin palace, m'lady."

"I hope no goblins have used this bed," Sarah grumbled to hide her pleasure.

"Only to move it- you are the first to use it. Now, will you be quiet; it's a known fact that you can't talk and sleep at the same time," the king ordered. In response, the covers began to adjust themselves, tucking her in.

"I wanted you to do that!"

"I believe the appropriate line here is- lead us not into temptation." When she was settled, Jareth sat down on the beside. Lost amid piles of covers, Sarah looked so small and innocent. If he allowed her to cut her hair, it would not be much.

But, he'd promised to sing her to sleep. Maybe this song would help her understand. It wasn't from the musical or her memories, but he'd heard it sung by a very lonely young man years ago in what had been Eire.

_It was called Immortality. _

He didn't agree with all the words, but it did haunt him. Into the words, he poured a subtle soporific, lulling the girl against her will to slumber. When her eyes closed and he knew she was indeed asleep, the once upon a dream Phantom touched her forehead with the lightest of touches, letting his own memories pour through his fingertips into her mind. The rush would sort into a logical order and play out for her in place of dreams. It would have been tempting to just let her see the good memories, the best times, but ruthlessly with himself, Jareth gave her all of it.

Even though it meant he relived the worst moments as they passed through his mind to copy themselves into hers.

At least now he did not bear them alone.


	5. 5 You shall know me

Sarah awoke to find herself alone. She tried not to be disturbed, but she had a thousand questions, and the one person who could answer them was not there.

A rose and a letter sat on the bar that served as a kitchen table. _We both have entirely too much to do to begin answering questions that would take entirely too long to answer._

As her faced moued in disappointment, a new line appeared. _Seeing the advantages of forever now, eh?_

"Smart Aleck," she grumbled, but his highness was right. It was a busy day ahead. She had a baby gift to buy, rehearsal, another performance to get through. life in general to live.

Yet, it was a life that seemed rather pale now, though it included what had been her dream.

Despite her disenchantment, Sarah was a professional, so her work did not suffer. If anything, she channelled it towards enhancing the poignant moments of the play.

Feigning a headache, she left at the first moment.

Her home was empty though.

"Jareth?" she called. "Your majesty?"

Silence answered her.

"I wish the goblins.."

"Now why would you wish for those creatures?"

"Because you were terribly absent and it's the only way I could think of to get you here- your highness," she shot back, turning to him. "Where were you?"

"Dealing with my life, running a kingdm, ordinary things like that. Would you like to visit it?"

"When?"

"Now is generally a good time."

"I have to pack.."

"You'll be home by morning," Jareth assured her, "Unless you've decided to make my home yours? Even then, we'd have to spend a bit of time tying up your affairs here. So, shall we?"

"I really need a shower...to change.."

"That can be seen to in my home. Anything you need can be found there.." He broke off, frowning. "What makes you shiver?"

"That old hag in the junkyard said something like that- if you eliminated that area and the fireys, I'd be thrilled."

"The junkyard was an after effect of your hallucination, a hangover. It's not real."

"Oh. And those over grown flamingos with a penchant for tossing their appendages around?"

"Quite real."

"Could you send a flock of them to visit Katherine?" Sarah asked hopefully.

"Why? They haven't done anything to me. Ready?"

"I guess so- how are we getting there?"

"We're here," Jareth informed her.

Amazed, Sarah looked around reflexively. Her apartment was not there anymore. They were in a light, airy room that did not match her memories of the Goblin Castle.

"You only saw the first level before, the level of testing, not the true castle," he answered her thoughts before she could voice them.

"I hate it when you read my mind," Sarah grumbled.

"I didn't- but what you must be thinking was simple to guess."

Suddenly, the young woman reached up and touched the king's cheek, asking him to be still with her touch. "Your eyes weren't always like this."

"The failed transfiguration left its marks, yes. Anymore questions - or shall I show you to a place where you can refresh yourself?"

"A thousand, but they can wait."

He lead her to a room's door. "Your chambers, m'lady. If there is some lack, call out and a fairy will attend you."

"A fairy?" Her hand still had a small scar from her last encounter with one. "I guess Hoggle didn't manage to kill them all."

"Hogward hasn't killed any- they are merely stunned. Once some sense is knocked into them, they are excellent servants."

"He got so excited over just stunning them?"

"Well, millions of people in your world get their jollies zapping things in video games with less result."

"Good point. I'll see you later?" Sarah had no idea how she'd find him again.

"One of the fairies will guide you when you are ready."

"Sure you aren't reading my mind?"

"Just using logic."

"Oh. "

Either Jareth's observational skills were excellent and the room was a product of the combination of those results with the desire to please her in mind, or the standard here was simply one she liked. In whichever case it was, Sarah found the room, not perfect, but closer to the ideal than any she'd ever been in before. She'd wondered if the clothes provided would be diaphanous, ethereal creations out of Lord of the Rings or perhaps some Ren Faire ballgown complete with obnoxious undergarments straight out of the Spanish Inquisition. There were, in fact, a few of the former, that looked rather comfortable, but there were also garments that reminded her of the Units clothing company, even lightweight slacks.

Opting for a poet shirt and coulottes, Sarah dressed then called out for a guide.

The woman who answered her summons was a good bittaller than she recalled fairies being.

"I'm only one eigth fairy, dear, and we don't talk about that much," the woman laughed in response to the questions in the girl's eyes. "Allow me to introduce myself- Moira, Queen Mother to his majesty, Jareth. "

Thanks to her theatrical training, Sarah knew how to courtsey, but as she moved to do so, a hand stopped her. "Don't be silly, child. I was looking forward to someone not running around in total awe of me- don't ruin that for me. Since you're ready, come along, so Jareth can present you to me."

It took a moment for Sarah to catch on, then she realized that Moira was playing a trick on her son, and she grinned.

The throne room was much cleaner than Sarah remembered, but Jareth had told her that the level of testing was different from reality. He was draped across the throne, looking as if he was trying to find a comfortable position in vain. A book floated a few inches out from his face, moving around with him. With his attention focused elsewhere, he didn't see them enter.

"Proposition, after enduring this blasted rock for over a century, a comfortable throne shall be commissioned. If anyone protests that such a thing lacks dignity, let him or her be tossed headfirst into the bog. No, let him or her have all the chairs in their home removed and be given this throne. "

Then, Sarah noticed a fairy drifting several feet away with a stylus and parchment, taking notes.

"Does that dictate extend to me? It does lack dignity, but not sense," Moira called out.

"Mother! I'm sure Sarah will be ready soon- and I'll bring her to your suite immediately.." Then, he saw Sarah standing beside his mother.

"I heard her call out- and wanted to meet her without the rigamarole. Now, does your order mean I'm going to find half my furniture tossed out to be replaced with that monstrosity?"

"Certainly not- but why did you never replace it if you disliked it?" By now, Jareth had righted himself and dismissed the fairies that were floating papers and books around for him.

"I was testing your sense vs false propriety. You passed, though it took long enough. C minus."

Jareth grimaced, but went on as if he hadn't been scolded. Turning to Sarah, he bowed. "Well, for what it's worth now, Sarah Williams, the impudent woman beside you is my mother, Moira. Mother, the charming mortal beside you is Sarah."

"Three quarters mortal," Moira corrected. "I did some research on her lineage- your brother exiled one of her father's mother and erased her memory."

"Why?" Sarah asked, startled.

"She was too important to kill- though that did not stop him from - " Moira bitterly began, then backed off, "in any case, her death would have sparked a war, exile was less likely to do so. I believe she refused to - well, I'm too much of a lady to say what she was too much of a lady to do. So, she was sent away, with no memory of her heritage. "

"Gran's memory always seemed rather dim, even before she was old enough or looked old enough to be senile," Sarah whispered, half to herself.

"Memory spells - any spell rendered by dark magic tend to be corrupted. The effects that would be beneficient if dispatched by one of our kind," her words took in both Jareth and herself with a look, "can only be harmful ultimately, even if they begin in such a way as to appear helpful."

Moira shook her head, shaking off the grim mood. "Now, this is not the time for that. " She looked over Sarah intently for the first time since they met. "Yes, I like her much better than her great great, however many grandmother. Christine. So, there's no need for you to be afraid of me, girl. I only bite people I dislike. "

"Literally- her alternate form is a wolf," Jareth added.

"What can I say?- There are times that suits my temperment better. Now, then, Sarah - would it bother you if I attended your next performance as Christine? I'd very much like to see it, but Jareth has refused- saying that I'd make you nervous."

"But I didn't know you until now- and "

"He meant it'd make him nervous, but that lacks machismo. " Moira slyly smiled as she made this tart declaration. "However, I have met you and didn't bite, so that should ease his fears."

"Mother- your aura does tend to alert sensitives when you are near- and could jar Sarah," his majesty protested.

"Stop having a cow, son. Sarah, are you afraid of me?"

"A little," she confessed. "I've never met a queen before."

"It's not that impressive when you get down to it. I'll show you around the grounds and you can answer my request before you return to your mother's world. Jareth, have you done anything about that young man in Eire yet?"

"He's not among our subjects, mother. I don't have the authority."

"Hmphf. We'll see about THAT. Well, take care of that behemoth of a chair. We will see you subsequently."

In a rush, Sarah was led away.

Once they were past Jareth's hearing, Moira asked, "Well, I'm sure you have a thousand questions- downloading- to put in modern terms- all that information into your head- it's a wonder your mind didn't short circuit."

"You know about computers?"

"Of course. Now, what would you like to know?"

"How did your other son- go- er why.."

"Why did he become the bad seed? Because his father did. They wanted more power, and darkness offered them the promise of that, though it could not deliver. Of course, my late husband learned that to his regret, when he died at his own child's hand. It was then that the boy turned his hand against his brother, and Jareth was forced to change when injured. Of course, now we know that was a good event, but it was troubling at the time. Still is, to think one of my own children could be so vile. I honestly can't tell you why-if you hoped that the Fey have some ancient wisdom that can comprehend the whys of good and evil, my dear, you are doomed to be disappointed. It is too deep for us."

"How did your husband get killed? I mean, I thought you are immortal?"

"Darkness drains its hosts. It sapped his life enough that the boy could end it, well, not truly end it. The son and the father are - united, neither having enough life really to sustain existence without the other. It's sick and sad. " Unsaid was the wish to speak of something else.

"You are sure that this land is - safe?" Sarah had to know.

"For the foreseeable time. Goblins are not considered to be much by such as he. Even though he could use them - they are too low to use, it would be a taint in his eyes. As if. Likewise, my son and I are tainted by our association with them. "

"And you - humans I mean- mortals.."

"You do have some Fey blood, but even if you didn't, I would think no less of you. Though it might make you a different person, one who would not believe so readilly? It will make transitioning you to this land easier...the latent genes within you will adapt your being to live here, and preserve your vitality... should you choose to follow destiny."

"That word kind of implies no choice in the matter, doesn't it?"

"There is a tension between destiny and free will that does not exclude either." Moira smiled as if appreciating a secret joke.

"Why can I understand your language?"

"Because- it's complex, but the simplest thing to say is we have an ability to make our meaning clear and to hear the real meaning of things, that goes beyond words, but that is how the meaning is heard."

"Lying is not really an option, huh?"

"Well, it is possible, but entirely too much trouble."

"Jareth mentioned a vision- of love- of me- does he love me just because he's supposed to?"

"Now that's one question that is hard to answer, does a fish need water to live because it wants to or because it is designed to do so? The desires of our hearts are given to us, and to know what those desires are is a gift the fortunate are granted. When two love, they become one, unless there is a severing that rends both to a degree." Sarah realized Moira spoke of herself then. "As a king has to think of more than himself, knowing who the rest of himself is to be is necessary. Mistakes could cost more than his heart."

She paused. "The love I had for his father was not a mistake though- without it, Jareth would not exist, and we would not be speaking to one another now, would we?"

The time passed, with more questions and answers passing between them, and each learning from what the other said, whether in query or response. Then, it was time for Sarah to return.

"Drink this, " Jareth asked. "It will restore you as if you had the sleep we made you miss.."

"Well, I do want to perform well- when your mother sees me," Sarah acknowledged, giving her permission to the earlier request.

"Thank you, child. "


	6. 6 Intermission

The night after Moira saw Sarah perform, she and Jareth met Sarah in her dressing room.

"Well, it is a very different version of reality than what actually happened," the dowager queen said, "but fascinating. The only character who is exactly like they were in real life is Carlotta- but then, that kind is quite common. "

"Now, mother, the managers were rather like the real ones," Jareth reminded.

"Idiots are common as well," Moira sniffed. "Run along, Jareth. Don't you have some royal something or other to do?"

"I was going to offer to transport you ladies to somewhere to continue your chat in private."

"I can see to that, shoo."

When he was gone, Moira asked, "Sarah, would you like to try it?"

"Try it? What it?" she asked, feeling slow. Surely Moira did not mean transporting them?

"Surely I do," the queen retorted, reading her thoughts. "You must learn sometime, now is good."

"What if I- screw up and scatter our atoms all over the place?"

"Don't be silly, child. We might land somewhere we don't wish to go, but I can correct that quickly. There are safeguards built into magics that prevent such things from happening. At worst, we might land in Timbucktoo. Just think of your home. That's it, hold the image in your mind. Now, take my hand. And.. step through the mirror."

She hadn't cleaned the house that morning...oh blast it. Sarah wished that she had done so. Moira wasn't even her mother in law yet and she was going to see she was a lousy housekeeper. Blast, blast, blast.

As they walked through the cool waves of glass that felt like electricity or something, Sarah chastised herself until they stepped into her bedroom. Or was it? She hadn't made up her bed that morning. The bed was made up. With Fresh sheets.

Not fresh sheets. New ones.

"I don't think this is my home," Sarah confessed. She'd obviously wished them to the wrong place.

Moira picked up a photo from the bedside. "This is your family, is it not?"

Sarah looked. "Yes. And, that is my book," she added, seeing a volume laying beside the photo.

"Your wishes projected. I do not know what we would have found- but the strength of your desire reached ahead and did whatever you see that is different. Excellent. You will be an apt student."

Hoping that the wish had straightened the kitchen as well, Sarah gave Moira a fifty cent tour on the way to that area of the house where she offered her refreshment. Then, as they chatted over tea, she began to ask more about the past.

"Moira, has Jareth watched over all of my family, all that descended from Christine?"

"Yes. Even after he recognized that they were not you.He even granted some of them wishes." Once again, it seemed that the Fey lady was laughing over some hidden bit of humor.

"I take it the wishes weren't ones that went well?" Sarah guessed.

"Well, wishes did land two of your aunts in the Bog of Eternal Stench, child."

Placing her cup down, Sarah blinked slowly. "They did? I don't recall any of them - reeking. I didn't like being around them much, but the weren't fetid."

"Would you like to hear the story?"

Sarah nodded.

"Do you recall your mother's sister, Kathleen?"

"Aunt Kathy, yeah. "

"After Linda, your mother, ran off to seek her fortune, Kathy was bitter. I believe the girls were all about seven years apart in age?" When Sarah confirmed this, Moira went on, "Their youngest sister, Becca, was four at the time, and Kathy eleven. Becca whined and puled often, and Kathy was sure that if she had been a better child, Linda might have stayed and not abandoned them. Nonsense, but such was her warped thought pattern. So, she found the book, your book, and wished that the goblins would take away Becca. I honestly did not think she'd try to get the child back, Jareth had to be more frightening than usual to convince her to attempt it. "

Moira paused to take a sip of her tea. Impatient, Sarah asked, "How'd they land in the Bog?"

"Becca's crying was driving us insane at the castle. It was rather incessant. She was driving the poor goblins nuts, chasing them, making them play dress up, and so on. My exact words were, 'Rebecca Emilia, if you don't cease and desist, I'll have to put you in the Bog'. That is always such an effective threat, I was sure it would work. Well, she didn't behave, so I had given my word. I tossed her in. Meanwhile, Kathy was throwing some kind of fit- such that Jareth had to go and see what was happening before she disturbed the balance of things too greatly. She didn't like the way things were, not the fireys, not the dwarves, not anything.I believe the term for what she had is a hissy fit. So, Jareth offered her a shortcut to her sister- who was by this time in the Bog. "

"How'd they get out?"

"After a day of being in the bog, we received a missive from Sir Didymus. " Moira laughed again. "You do recall how proper and formal he is? To whit it read, 'Sire, My Lady Moira, it has been mine own good pleasure this past segement of forever to be thine steward of the Bog of Eternal Stench. Your mercy and goodness altered my perception of smell so that I could not be driven mad by the aforementioned stench. Yet now I am forced to ask that thy mercy extend once more to thy servant and relieve me of duty, for the only way to make my tenure bearable since the arrival of these two damsels would be to strike down my senses of hearing and of sight as well, in which case I verily would not be an effective knight. Their continued whining, puling, complaining and so forth, both aloud and in writing when I stop up my ears is driving both myself and my good steed insane. I beg thee, transfer me or move them out of here.' So, Jareth sent them home."

Sarah frowned, "But, they are well- witches, spelled a bit differently- as they put it in Brigadoon, but they don't have violent bo."

"B?O? Oh, Body odor. No, stench is a metaphor. The Bog itself does reek most foully, yes, but the actual eternal nature is an allegorical effect. Most of the people with the rankest characters have the ability to mask it, to display a secondary face that seems pleasant but conceals a worse nature, one that will hurt and harm you if you let it. The Bog's fumes are a potent drug that will strip the ability to be two faced from them- warning others away from trusting them unless they undergo a radical inner transformation, one that can only be attained by the grace of God. It does make them seem more unpleasant to be around, but it does rather help those who must be around them- in a way. I call it the barbed wire effect. I think that your aunts are possibly the only people to be dunked in the last thousand years. I take it that they have not improved at all?"

Sarah shook her head. "If anything, they are worse. I try to avoid them."

"Wise girl. I had hoped they might be changed. It is sad to see lives so - so- "

"They seem to feel like everyone else, the people who don't agree with them, are to blame for not being on the same page with them."

Moira shook her head. "Such a pity they didn't spend more time with the fireys. I think they would have been improved by having their heads tossed. May I see more of your home?"

"It's not much," Sarah demurred.

"Nonsense. "

As Sarah showed her around more thoroughly, Moira seemed to be listening to something else. At the end, a pleased smile made her radiant. "You've been instinctively using your gifts for sometime now, dear girl. I could not be more pleased. "

"I have?" This was news to Sarah.

"Yes. The echo of magic is readily detectable, unless you take pains to make it covert, and of course, you have no reason to do so."

"What have I done?"

"Small things, it'd be like trying to explain how you have breathed or the process you take to pick up a piece of paper. To be frank, I dislike the term magic- it sounds like artifice, when for those who have the right to use it, it is like breathing or seeing. "

"Moira, if this is too forward, I withdraw the question, but how did Jareth's brother kill his father?"

For a moment it seemed as if the question would be unanswered, then, tiredly, Moira nodded. "Now is as apt a time as any; indeed, the right time, before you begin to learn. Evil is not an actual thing in and of itself, it's not he opposite of good, but the perversion of it. The misuse. As long as we, those who have the Fey gifts, do not abuse, warp our gifts and powers, we are not killable. But, if we abuse them, use them in a warped fashion, we are vulnerable. My husband wanted more power than he had at his disposal, and took it. It was not a great abuse, but he did abuse. That weakened him; and so when his son wanted what he wanted, taking it from him was simple enough, even though, in the long run, it damaged the taker more than the one taken from. So, he who was my son is now weaker for having more power."

"Can Jareth fight back?"

"You mean without making himself similiarly vulnerable and fallen? In defense, yes. But the risk inherent in attack is great. Fortunately, the laws governing conquest are ones that will turn against the one who breaks them. If his former brother strikes Jareth down, that law demands in no uncertain terms that he rule the Goblins, who he considers unclean. The Goblin kingdom is for outcasts, he can not rule it without taking on the mantle of outcast. " Her laugh was bitter. "I suppose in a way, I am to blame for his flaw; his quest for power partly lies in his need to excise himself of his mother's tainted, outcast legacy."

"Compassion is a taint?" Sarah asked, scandalized.

"To him, yes. Not to me, or Jareth, nor I see, to you. " This made a weary smile touch Moira's face. "Jareth's choice was well made. It is time I leave, and let you have some time with him. When I return, we must begin teaching you how to be Fey, and consider how you are to die to this world."

"What?" Sarah felt entirely too young to die.

That thought was very loud, impossible for Moira not to hear. "You will not die, but your death must appear to happen- it is the only way. Once you become one of us totally, the way is shut behind you."

"I didn't know that...how can I do that to people who care about me? I have a life here.."

Life whirled around her.

"You can't live in two worlds, dear. Jareth, see to her.."

The words seemed very distant. The world was falling away from her. Darkness reached towards her with avarice.


	7. Like H

**I still own nothing, except Moira. **

"Where am I?"

"Where you were when you passed out," an amused, dry voice informed her. "I didn't think people really said that, but you have ever defied expectations, Sarah."

"Jareth- your mother just claimed you were the compassionate kid," she sniped. "It is so not compassionate to tease people who just fainted." She began trying to sit up, finding it difficult at best. "Feathers? Why am I in a feather bed?"

"Because I brought you to the castle. Since I am the more compassionate of mother's sons, I needed to keep you within easy range to check on you or be available if you woke up needing something. However, as King, I can't just sit in your apartment and watch talk shows while I do that, so I brought you with me."

She knew there were holes in that logic, but trying to decipher them at present was entirely too much to do. "I need to go on back home- what time is it?"

"I'll return you at a time that is convenient for you- and explain again how time is more like a road that one can intersect at varying points than ..."

Holding up a hand, Sarah shook her head, "I get that. What I don't get is why I must die."

"You won't die, Sarah. You will age at a rate of about one hour per century, since you are fully grown. Did you strike your head when you passed out?" Jareth asked, instantly crossing to her side to pushing back her hair to examine her skull for a missed bruise or some other injury.

"No..I mean, die to that world- it'll hurt so many people," Sarah protested, not realizing how vain that sounded.

Jareth sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She was right, the feathers were entirely too soft. He'd have to correct that. "Because your world does not comprehend the ways of this one easily, for one thing. We withdrew, for the most part, from closeness to that realm long ago because your people tended to elevate us to deific status, and that is entirely too wrong. Secondly, now they might not worship us, which is fine, but becoming lab rats has about the same level of appeal, none. Third, think on it, Sarah. You will not age in a way that is readily perceived; yet those you know- Toby, your friends, Sean, Mary, Charlie, your parents, even your dreadful aunts, will. Can you bear to see them so degenerate? Could they bear to see you so little altered by time?" Unconsciously, he intertwined their fingers as they lay on top of the quilt.

"This is so not fair," Sarah returned to her old mantra.

"I wonder what your basis for comparision might be?" he gently teased. "There is nothing fair or unfair under heaven."

"God has been good to us," she finished the quote.

"Indeed He has. "

Bending forward, he kissed the tear that left a silver trail down Sarah's face.

"Jareth."

"Hm?"

"Can you give me some time? A week without seeing you or Moira or any of this?" Sarah raised her face to look at Jareth seriously, and did not miss the flash of pain in his eyes.

Eternity passed between them. Then, slowly, the king nodded. "I can deny you no wish, ma couer. Though it cuts me like a knife. "

Though she resented the manipulative tone, Sarah's will was as strong as his still. "I need a space to come to peace with losing everything I've known, even if it is the price of all I want."

Keeping a mask of resolve on his face, Jareth reaffirmed his consent. "As you have asked, it shall be done."

"Not even one dream sent from you," she went on resolutely, though a catch made her voice falter.

"No," he agreed, then a teasing smile danced in Jareth's eyes. "But, love, I can not prevent you from dreaming about me."

"Who says I will?"

In lieu of words, he kissed her fully on the lips, meeting no resistance.

"I believe I just gave you something to dream of."

"Or at least yourself?"

The king did not deny it, but did steal one last kiss before the world shifted and returned Sarah to the mundane world from which she came.

"You never will play fair will you, " Sarah asked the silence, "my love?"


	8. 8 Half true, but which half?

By the end of the first day of the week she had asked for, Sarah had begun to feel an ache she dared not define. The knowledge that Jareth and his entire world were waiting for her or might suddenly intrude upon her relatively calm to the point of mundane world had been filled a need she did not even know she had. Now that she knew she needed it - needed him, the lack was a dull ache in her soul. Only her own stubborness kept her from ceding that week she had demanded. Sarah reasoned that though she desperately wanted to hear Jareth's voice, with that complex accent that could be loving and mocking in the same breath; wanted to see his mismatched eyes, feel the touch of his hand, the insufferable "I told you so" look in those eyes would ruin it.

Therefore, she endured the less radiant light, the dulled music, the emotional distance of this world, this world in which she was now an alien.

By the end of the second day, Mr. Welles suggested that perhaps they had been working her too hard. He noticed that her performances on the past two nights had been-- lacking something. Oh, to be sure, her performance was technically flawless; professionalism took over when she stepped into Christine's life and would allow her no less than excellence. Yet, the passion, the spark of magic that had been there only day ago was missing. When he offered to let her have a night off, Sarah almost agreed, but no. For a thousand reasons too complex to go into and a hundred more that she could not admit to herself just yet, she had to continue.

When she reached the theatre for the performance on the third night of her sennight, Sarah's soul felt a weariness that made her regret her choice- though whether it was the initial one, the demand she'd made so unwisely to Jareth, or the one to keep plugging away as Christine, she chose not to know.

Willful ignorance never bodes well.

"Thank Heavens you are here," Mr. Welles exclaimed, looking more flustered than she'd ever seen him look. ''Sean is out- the kid has colic or something- I don't know or want to know what babies get. Something with a fever. I don't know, " he began repeating himself. "His understudy is out with a sore throat. We can't have a Phantom of the Opera without a Phantom!"

Theresa, behind his back, rolled her eyes. Granted, it was an emergency, but histronics weren't going to fix anything.

"Look, maybe one of the other guys knows the part- or one of the local theatres would loan us someone who has been a Phantom?" Sarah began suggesting possibilites. Her mind was working on others though. Jareth? Could she call him- No- Was he setting her up to have to call him?

He wouldn't be so sneaky? Would he?

He wouldn't hurt a baby, would he?

He'd turn them into goblins...no...he doesn't do that.. goblins breed fast enough and why would he want more anyway? The old myth still had power to infringe on her thoughts though.

One of the chorus members scooted past her, wearing, as usual, Tresor, with its distinct fragrance of vanilla and peach, triggering a memory of another time and place. Of a dance and a poison peach.

Cutting through the farrago of her thoughts, a cell phone's ring brought Sarah back to reality. Irritated, Charles answered it. "Welles. What? Really?" Relief washed over his face. "Excellent. Thank you."

Clicking off, he looked up with a grin. "Well, my dear, we're saved by the bell- or at least the ring. I found us a Phantom sub. "

"The - guy from the other night- when Sean's baby arrived?" Sarah suggested tentatively.

"No- I can't even recall that fellow's name, but it wasn't this one. Emile K Simpson- I have heard that name before, but where I can't recall at the moment, and it hardly matters. We're saved."

Then why did a cold hand of dread slip tentacle like fingers around Sarah? She was sure that Emile was not Jareth, if for no other reason than the fear it sparked in her. If Jareth had cheated a bit and forced his way into the play tonight, she'd be irked, but forgive him. She would not be afraid.

She was now, but conciously chose to channel that fear into creating a realistic Christine.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of this substitute Eric, she kept her eyes open before the performance. He kept a step ahead of her, however, never anywhere she heard he'd been minutes before.

Therefore, her first glimpse of Emile was onstage when he "kidnapped" Christine to take her to his underground lair. He was not Jareth- and his voice was a beautiful tenor, that could not be questioned. As their eyes met for the first time, even through the mask, she knew one thing for certain.

Whatever else this Emile was, he was Fey.

Once again professionalism saved Sarah from muffing her role. The automatic reflexes she had trained herself to have kept her going even as a line that was not to come for sometime in the play sang in the back of her head.

_It's in your soul the distortion lies. _

Whether that was obvious to the naked eye or her time with Moira and Jareth or the inherent power Moira insisted Sarah had revealed this to her was not knowable. Know it she did though. This creature was evil.

He was there for her- that was a cold certainty that reached from his hard eyes to the depths of Sarah's heart. Not there for her in the way Jareth had promised to be either.

There was little doubt that he was Jareth's brother, the one who'd hurt him.

Sarah did not have to fake Christine's fear, but it had never been harder to pretend love for the Phantom. How was she going to get through that pivotal kiss? How could she let that monster touch her?

Whether her inner actress overrode those fears and the dread that threated to choke Sarah or it was entirely possible that Emile cast some spell, some Svengalian enchantment that forbid her from revealing her loathing, the performance went well. It did have differences to be sure. For one thing, the young man who portrayed Raoul jokingly commented that for once he didn't feel guilty about taking Christine away. He finally felt like the girl did want to flee with him.

Sarah gave him a weak smile, managing some flippant remark about of course she did- she'd just been hiding her true feelings. If she'd been asked an hour later, the young woman could not have recalled what she said though.

It did not astonish her when Mr. Simpson was waiting outside her door. That was the way these things worked. She'd always known the rules. What she didn't know was if this was about to be an abduction to some dungeon or the obligatory fallaciously cordial meeting between the evil genius and the ingenue. She wasn't sure she was an ingenue either. That Emile was evil was not in doubt.

"Miss Williams?" he smiled thinly. The smile did reach his eyes, but it was not a kind one. "Or might I call you Sarah? I understand we are to be family?"

"Since one is under no obligation to like their family- then I suppose that could be true," Sarah returned tautly.

"Ah, yes, I do recall your - less than amicable relationship with your own brother and mother- step mother, rather. Don't look so stunned, my dear. You are rather famous, you know."

"Slow news days, huh?" Sarah retorted.

"This is a rather - public venue," Emile noted, studying his elegant hands.

"I find that's the best place to meet with evil guys with dark intentions," Sarah smiled thinly. She knew most of the other performers were either in their rooms or gone by now. No one had passed by since this conversation began. There was no way she was taking him home, on the off chance that brother dearest didn't know where she lived.

"I do know where you live," he commented.

One illusion bites the dust.

"Wouldn't you prefer to pop over there?"

"I'd prefer to dump you in Jareth's bog," Sarah hissed. "If we're going with what I want- then go take a dive there."

Infuriatingly, he laughed at her. Then, snapping his fingers, Sarah felt the world turn upside down. When it righted itself, they were in her living room.

"I'd be asking too much to ask for a drink, I suppose?" the monarch speculated.

"Bingo. I don't think the words- entertaining angels unaware apply to you- unless it covers fallen ones," Sarah frowned, not sitting as he did. Note to self, she decided, get the sofa cleaned tomorrow. Or throw it out. Okay, that was terribly grammar school of her, but just in case there were evil germs... one couldn't be too safe, could one?

Emile did not seem perturbed by her rudeness. Karen would have been. She could hear her stepmother now, _Now, Sarah, even though he's evil and the scum of the earth is no reason not to be nice. It never hurts you to be nice._

Ha.

"I don't suppose you want my side of my brother's little story? Or to say thank you?" Emile asked.

"Not especially. Thank you? Come on," Sarah scoffed. Reluctantly, her mind flew back in time to the battlements where she'd faced Jareth.

_Sarah, be careful.. I have been generous- but I can be cruel. .. Everything- Everything you have asked, I have done. _

Not the same thing at all, she told herself sternly.

Unaware, apparently, of her internal conversation, Emile K Simpson smiled thinly. "But- Sarah- I have done so much for you. Just think of it- if I had not convinced Jareth to botch his transformation- - oh- perhaps it was a bit forcefully--"

"Attempted murder is forceful, yes," Sarah agreed.

"He wouldn't have become the Phantom, and met Christine, which tied together his destiny to yours and so on. Likely, she'd have not even become a singer of the finest calibur and attracted Raoul's attention, therefore- you'd have not been born."

"So- the good accomplished as a result of evil discounts the initial - evil," Sarah suggested caustically. "The church threw out antinominiansim centuries ago. I'd suggest you read Galatians- but can demons even touch the Bible?" Maybe it wasn't too smart to bait a guy who could kill her easily, but he was going to anyhow. Why not insult him as much as possible then?

He just ignored her true sarcasm. "Sarah, I am sure that you were given the tired story that because my father turned to darkness, blah, blah, blah- I was able to kill him- it weakened him. No need to answer, I see it in your eyes. Now then- would it not stand to reason that I could not have injured my brother enough to force him to flee with his warped face unless he had a similiar vulnerability?"

"How about because you are evil?" she shot back, but was shaken a bit.

"Tsk. But shouldn't I have been unable to hurt him if he were pure? Just think about it. Continue to display the wisdom you exercised in asking for this week. "

Her face must have shown some surprise.

"Oh, don't be silly- why would I want to kill you? You are such a good kisser, even when you are scared and repulsed. Not yet anyway. I don't have to kill you, now do I?"

With that enigmatic note, he vanished, leaving Sarah confused and wishing she had not asked for that week. She'd love to talk to Moira now.

More than that, she just wanted Jareth's arms around her.


	9. Back from the edge

Disclaimer applies still. Thanks for all the kind words.

CRASH!

That was the - fifteenth crystal that had shattered in the last five minutes, by Moira's calculations. She'd quit actively counting after eight, actually.

"Jareth-- throwing things and," she paused as a goblin sailed past, "kicking goblins is not going to help anything. Has it made you feel any better? At all?"

The king grew still in his restless pacing. "No. However, I do think it keeps me from feeling worse. "

Brushing a stray hair out of her eyes, the Queen Mother sighed. "I sincerely doubt that, my son. "

"Emilek is turning her against me! And he WILL hurt her, you know that."

Moira winced as another orb smashed beyond her head. "First of all- if she can so easily be turned, then the love is not true in any case, so in an unfortunately ironic way, your father's son is doing you a favor." She would not acknowledge that little prick as any child of hers. Three globes smashed before she could speak again and hope to be heard. "Second- stop that- or I'll forget what I was going to say second! Now, then. She is understandably confused- and once she can talk to one of us, will see good sense."

"That is days away!" However, Jareth did not smash anything, though his mutinous mien made it clear he wished to.

"Perhaps you should not have promised her then- however, if you break your word, you will only prove Emilek's words to have some verisimilitude. I would offer, but the promise extended to me as well, therefore, I can do naught, except advise you in the future, do not bind me in your oaths."

"Technically, you are not bound to a promise you did not make," Jareth suggested slyly.

"Don't be silly. Of course I am- even though I am Queen Mother and Regent if you are in exile- and do not do that to me again!- or ill-- as your subject, I am bound to your vows."

A long streak of curses erupted. When it was over, Moira unblinkingly suggested, "However- there is an older bond that might serve you well. Hoggle, Didymus, all those who befriended Sarah on her journey to the Labyrinth may come to her when she needs them."

"Would that include ME?" Jareth asked hopefully.

Moira considered. "Possibly, on a technical detail, however, the line is blurry - I would not advise crossing it. Just send Hoggle. I know you dislike him, but Ludo is not eloquent by any imagination, and Didymus is too much so. You witnessed what that creature implied, therefore, you know what she will need to know. What she mostly needs to remember is you love her."

"She knows that! Or should!"

"It is nice to hear, still. Trust me, I am a woman, I know these things."

Jareth sighed, then yelled, "HOGWART."

Sarah was confused enough and frightened enough of the idea that Jareth's brother might take the stage again to call in sick. Mr. Welles was upset and concerned, but admitted her understudy would likely be relieved to get a chance to perform. She then, in a superstitious fit, placed crosses near every door or window or mirror.

When he entered through the mirror, Hoggle knocked one over. "Sarah?"

Hearing the noise, she hurried in from the living room. "Hoggle? What are you doing here?"

"Well, ah- you said when you's needs any of us, we could come see ya- every now and then anyway. An' looks like you needs us, so I'm here."

"Did Jareth send you?"

"Well, uh, yeah. But - you know I don't like that rat. But I like how good you two are fer each other - so- anyway. I'm only hear because of you needing me, not because of him telling me, except he had to let me know about it. And since you said he couldn't see you fer a few more days yet, well - I was able to come and he can't without breaking his vow. He can keep an eye on you, and saw what his scum brother said."

"Is it true?" Sarah asked bleakly.

"Kinder, but not so much as he said it was. Uh, look, Sarah, the king - he ain't perfect. So, there is some bad in him, but there's some bad in everyone who ain't The Boss Upstairs. Just one little flaw's 'nuf to make 'm vulnerable, y'know? But he's not bad, through n' through like that brother of his'n. " Hoggle hoped he'd got it all right.

"Can Emile use me to hurt Jareth?" her voice was even more desolate.

"Sure. Emilek's his name, by the by. He can use anyone. But only if'n you lets 'm. "

Sarah sighed. "Can I revoke what I said?"

"Cor, Sarah. 'ave I made you mad?" Hoggle looked distressed.

"Not about needing you- about- not letting Jareth come here."

"I dunno. Try and see." The dwarf shrugged. He'd given his message, best as he could, and beyond that was beyond him. Magic was for other folk.

"I wish- I wish Jareth would come here, now."

"Thought you'd never ask," a familiar voice drawled.


	10. 10 Come to Me Bend to Me

Sarah flew into Jareth's arms, all her resolve and doubts falling behind the greatness of her need. "Did he speak the truth, at all?" she demanded after a long moment passed, trusting he knew what she meant.

"Skewed, but it is true, I'm not perfect. I know that shocks you," Jareth teased her. "I want things my own way, I have a temper**..._most _**of my family is not worth killing..."

Sniffing, Sarah feebly punched the king. "I know that. Except--except you are perfect -- for me."

Dare he hope?

"Sarah, have you decided then?" He'd been sure that he'd at the minimum, lost ground.

"Let me answer when I calm down. Right now, all I really want to do is leave this world behind. Escape. I don't want to decide from fear. So, will you hold me and talk to me for a while?"

"Forever. But- what about?" Jareth asked as he eased her into a moon chair.

"Anything. What have you done for the last few days? How is your mother?"

"She is fine, rather irked by me- I've been in a foul mood, you see, though I have no idea why...hmm...what have I done? Paced, kicked goblins, shattered crystals...missed you." His tone remained lightly casual, glossing over the sarcasm and tenderness alike.

"Oh." Sarah felt heat rising to cover her face. Sudden shyness forced her to change subjects to safer ground, something less personal. "Uhm, well...ah- remember that song? The lullaby you sang to me- how-- how'd that story end?"

It took Jareth a moment, then he recalled it. "Oh. Well, the young man left the woman he loved behind for some time, returned home eventually, when he knew she had found love, and was her friend and even her husband's...for what seemed to be an eternity, a mere few years in reality."

"Then?"

"In this world, loves can be separated by death- or brought together. When she was a young widow, he was there for her. Then, they lived happily ever after."

"Really?"

"Of course. "

"How can something so sad be so -- happy?" Sarah wondered.

"Much in life is- yet without the sorrow the joy would lack depth." Gently, he stroked her hair, easing a hidden tangle out of its knots with magic.

"Didn't know I was in love with a philosopher," she smiled

"Are you? In love?" Dare he hope? For a man used to needing only to want something in order to have it, this waiting was painful, yet vital.

"It would seem so." Sarah sat up a bit, moving just out of his embrace. "I suppose that means --" she sighed. "I guess it means goodbye to this world. I'm still scared, but- the way I feel with you...more importantly, the way I feel without you...I'm babbling."

"That's quite all right. I deal with goblins all the time, comparitively, you would have to descend much further to be incomprehensible," Jareth assured her easily.

"Thanks, I think," the actress noted wryly. "When I'm not with you, the world just is - flat. I feel alive again when I see you- and that was even before - Mr. Simpson," she stated the name as one might the name of a bitter medicine, "freaked me out. He didn't really do anything, but there was just something-- something horrible exuding from his aura, something behind his words and deep in his eyes. "

"Mr. Simpson?" Jareth asked.

"Emile K Simpson, the name he took. Hoggle told me it was really Emilek, but...I don't know where he got the last name."

"Simpson..." Jareth mused. "Ah- his father's name is Sympram."

"When we have kids, can we name them after someone on my side of the family?" Sarah asked, thinking it would not be good to have a child whose name you could barely pronounce.

"We can work something out- but let's go through the process to get them here first?" his highness suggested with a soft laugh that made her blush.

Changing the subject again, Sarah exhaled, then went on, "I guess we're doing the wrong musical. This has turned into Brigadoon-- _sometimes you have to give up everything to have everything. _"

"Rather Biblical," the king agreed. "And true. I wish it were not so..."

"What must be, must be. You're right, it would be -- difficult-- to see everyone changing so while I was forever as I now am. Even if it weren't so- I changed schools once, promised to keep in touch with my old friends, you know? But as time passed, we had less and less in common...it would have hurt less to not see the things wither slowly." She paused. "Maybe, I think. What could have been and what if- never work, do they?"

"Seldom."

Sarah sighed. She could wait, as she'd said, but it was pointless. She knew in her soul what she would do. Once you make a decision, it's best to follow through. "Then, for good or ill, I choose- you and your world, forever."

The kiss he gave her alone made it all seem so right. It made no sense when, after breaking off, he smiled and said, "In a day or two, I will return and bring you home."

"Why not now?"

"Do you want to just disappear? Leave those you love wondering for the rest of their lives?"

"No..."

"Then - there are things that must be done so that they do not," Jareth smiled, then kissed her briefly. "That does not mean that I intend to let you out of my sight. Not with that creature aware of your existence. "

Laying a a cool hand against her forehead, as if checking for a fever, Jareth whispered something in what sounded like a cross between Elven and Romulan. Perhaps he was inflicting her with a fever. Warmth seemed to infuse Sarah's mind.

"A mental link. You will not even need to call, if you are troubled, I will hear and know it." He stepped back with a smile. "Come now. A guest room is waiting for you. I'll ward this place so that should you be required, you'll be summoned. "

With no thought to argue, the awed girl followed him into her mirror.


	11. Help me say goodbye

AN-- I still own nothing. To all who have asked that Jareth and Sarah duet All I Ask of you- under the new rules, I can't do that, but I will consider writing a chapter with that that you can ask for via email. Sorry.

In the days that followed, those around Sarah could not help but notice she had undergone yet another transition. In some people, mood swings and shifts were normative. In Sarah, it was troubling. Her deep gloom was replaced by a distant joy. An inner radiance lit her, but it kept her at arm's length as well.

That distance did not prevent her from giving her best on stage. Knowing that she would soon be gone from this life, from this world, Sarah poured her all into every nuance of her performance. However, an astute and faithful listener would have discerned this subtle difference in her singing:

When the show opened, _Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again_ had been the most soulful aria Miss Williams performed. While no one could speak against how she performed that or any of the other songs, there was more passion to _Think of Me_ than any of the others after Emile's one time performance. Sarah did not really need help saying goodbye, but she did hope that when she was remembered, it would be fondly. Jareth could have, at great cost, erased all traces of her life, but tampering with the continuum of life was a risky endeavor. Trying to tamper with the way fate's tapestry of the past had been woven was just shy of dark magic, something Sarah would never ask of her love.

So, when the papers predicted Sarah Williams would walk away with a Tony award, she merely smiled or laughed it off, saying that surely they could find someone more worthy than she. Later, Jareth would tease her, "I had no idea you were so modest, love."

"One of us has to be," she countered with a smile to soften the words. "Now, I need you to witness my will."

"I did promise to do whatever you asked," his highness bowed.

"No, it's a document tying up things after - after I'm considered dead. It has to be witnessed by two people."

"In your world, I'm not a legal person," he reminded her.

"Darn it. "

"Is a will like a suicide note?" Jareth rhetorically wondered aloud.

"No.."

"Then, just get anyone to witness it--death does not keep to an appointment schedule, at least not one that humankind is able to read. Therefore, it will just seem a logical move, standard procedure," he shrugged. "Though something so mundane and down to earth from you, Miss Dreamer, might seem a bit out of character. "

"Ha. Fine. I'll take care of it tomorrow."

That and other so called mundane items were ticked off on the how to die properly list until there was nothing left but to do it.

Well, there was one other thing. Sarah needed to spend one last day with her family. She'd never see them again, after all.

"Karen," she started to say as the day drew to a close. "I- I'm sorry I was a brat when you and Dad first got married. "

"I know. It wasn't just your fault we didn't get along...and it is natural for an only child to resent a new baby or a child of divorce to want her parents to get back together. Toby and I ruined that for you," Karen smiled understandingly.

"I was still wrong," Sarah insisted with a sigh. "But, it all worked out..." Her words trailed off ambiguously. If it hadn't been for her rage at the whole situation, would she have ever wished Jareth into her life?

"Yes, it did," her stepmother agreed. Sarah was not going to miss the nasal perkiness to her voice. "Sarah, are you seeing someone?" She went on, cocking her head to the side, like Merlin used to when he was puzzled.

"Uh- why do you ask?" Sarah felt herself blushing.

"You are--you just seem-- you've got a radiance-- and you're blushing now," Karen crowed, pleased. "I've always said you should date more."

"Well, ah- "

"Why didn't you bring him over?" she demanded.

"He's out of town, today," Sarah exhaled. That was not a lie. Not exactly. Not being in this world was surely not in town either.

"What's that play you're in about anyhow?" Toby demanded.

"It's kind of scary, Toby," Karen warned. She really didn't want her seven year old hearing a story that was so--sensual.

"Mooom!" he whined. "C'mon. I mean- it can't be scarier than goblins."

"Goblins?" Mrs. Williams asked, one eye brow raised. "Toby, I do think you're too old for goblins." She missed the consternation that flooded Sarah's face.

Toby didn't. He looked at his sister, insisting, "Tell her, Sarah. I saw the goblins and didn't get scared at all. Even though they were jumping all 'round me, an' makin' funny noises."

"I'm sure his majesty will be so flattered by your opinion of his singing," popped out dryly before Sarah had a chance to think.

"Sarah?" Karen asked uncertainly. By this time, Robert had finished cleaning the grill he'd messed up earlier and joined his wife in giving his oldest the "hairy eyeball".

"I - ah- told Toby a story- once-- about Goblins---and the king of them-- sang...I guess... ah- he took it literally," Sarah blushed. Covering, she went on hastily, "Say, slugger, hope that when you're in high school your memory is still this great. It'll really help when you have to memorize the kings of France and England at the same time in proper order, and they all have the same names, but they're married to different queens and-- you have to remember the queens too."

"I'd rather remember the goblin king," Toby insisted. "He was gonna make me a prince, and then I wouldn't hafta go to school."

"Yeah, you would," Sarah smiled. "Princes must have excellent vocabulary and ennunciation skills--and yours need work, kid."

"Nuncia- what?" the boy frowned.

"It means you have to pronounce things right," Robert chuckled. "You would not have to go to school, but you would since you didn't say have to properly."

"Huhn.I'd just drop the teacher in the bog, headfirst," Toby refused to be defeated.

"The bog?" Karen asked.

"Of 'ternal stink," Toby rambled on proudly. "Stick one foot in and you smell bad forever and ever. "

"Hey, Toby, don't let all the royal secrets out of the bag," Sarah teased to hide her unease. She had no idea that her brother remembered all that. "Or you might be the one in the bog or in an oubliette."

"Aw, Sar, you couldn't ever forget me," the boy crowed.

"No, not ever," she agreed softly, blinking away a tear.

"Don't go getting leaky, sis," he shook his head. "I'm gonna go watch Power Punchers- wanna come?"

"Uh- not now, we want to talk to Sarah," Karen said tightly. "And you have homework to do. Just Tivo the show, you can watch it afterwards."

When the boy had scampered away, Karen scolded, "Sarah, really. You shouldn't be telling him such - such stories. Bog of eternal stink?"

"Stench," the queen to be muttered under her breath, unheard. Louder, she defiantly added, "Bet not many seven year olds know what an oubliette is."

"As if they need to," Karen snorted. "I don't want you telling him stories about goblins and all that anymore."

No danger of that. With the mist of sentiment banished by Karen's acerbic words and Robert's silent support of them, Sarah's resolve that had melted a bit revived. "I promise, I won't tell him about goblins, their king, or bogs ever again."

If they caught the seriousness of her tone, neither Robert or Karen indicated it, merely nodded in contentment that she was obeying.

"I've got to go," Sarah sighed. "Say goodbye to Toby, please." Rising, she tossed off a wave, then forced herself past the hurt to give each parent one last hug. She'd give her mother a call when she got home, she decided as she turned to the gate.

"Sarah, you can go tell him yourself," Robert offered uncertainly, picking up a bit on her mood.

"No- I- I'm late," she bit out, not able to see her brother and say those two words without crying.

For the last time, Sarah walked away from her childhood home.


	12. Point of No Return

Sarah was not alone in her pain. Another faced a difficult choice.

Even when death was a necessity, and execution carried out in the name of justice, it did not fail to leave scars on the soul of the one meting it out duly. Yet, Emilek was evil. Of that, there was no uncertainty. Once already, he had attempted to kill his brother. Jareth being essentially exiled to the Goblin lands, a world distasteful to Emilek, was all that had prevented a second attempt. Eventually, however, would find a way to circumnavigate his abhorence of this segment of their world and slay its master. Hatred and a need to control all would drive him as surely as an addict seeking his next fix. Power and destruction were the wines that gave him a high.

One thing only could be done.

In the middle of the night, Jareth awoke to see a grey shadow standing over him. The next day, he had planned to bring Sarah home. Cliche'd as it might be, he had decided that her car would be found in an abandoned area, melted and burnt with the body of an already dead stranger, someone who would otherwise not get a decent burial, inside. A glamour combined with the effects of the flames would disguise the stranger so that no one would know Sarah was not that person. After she was safely in his palace, he would go and attend to what must be done. Should he fail, Moira was powerful enough to keep her safe.

"Son," a silken voice whispered. Blinking, the king recognized his mother.

"What is wrong, Mama?" he asked softly.

"I came to say goodbye, my son." Now he heard the pain in her voice.

"Goodbye?" This made no sense.

Gently, she sat on the edge of his bed. "I- he who was once my son and your brother is no more. Ambassadors will come and ask you to take up your rightful throne by week's end, to take his place. I have taken his headless corpse and placed it in Sarah's vehicle. It has been reduced to a molten heap and plunged into the ocean. Your beloved is in the room prepared for her; she slept through the transfer- with a bit of help, of course. Now, you must exile me."

For some reason, the fog of sleep or the abruptness of it all one, his majesty could not comprehend what she said. She could not be saying what it seemed that she was.

"Who killed him?"

Giving Jareth a look that said he surely knew, Moira sighed. "I did. You can not harbor a killer. And I could not let you perform my duty. My body bore him, it was-- mete that I end his evil. " Her voice broke. "I could not -- I could not save one of my sons, but the other, I had to --I had to...death does not belong on your soul, my child."

Tears ran down the Queen Mother's face as she kissed her favorite child's forehead. "Fare well. Forgive me."

And she was gone.


	13. Royal Decree

"Sarah Williams is dead, long live --High Queen Sarah," a beloved voice laced with inexplicable sorrow penetrated the young woman's dreams.

Opening her eyes, Sarah looked around in confusion. "Wh--"

"Emilek is dead..."

Sitting up, her hand carressed Jareth's face. "I know it was hard for you to ..."

Placing a finger over her lips, Jareth shook his head. "I did not execute him...Mother did. She -- I never killed, though legend attributes murders to my hand. She wished it to remain so... and she felt responsible for his existence. " His head bowed. "She has exiled herself."

"What? But--no- that's wrong, terribly wrong!" Sarah yelled.

Gentle hands stilled her. "This I know, my love. This I know."

"You have to do something, stop her. Please." The last word was replete with pain and begging. Sarah had just been lost to two mothers, must she lose a third?

"I have been declared High King, and when we wed at sunset, you will become the Queen of all the Fey lands," he continued on a tangental thread.

"I don't care about being High Queen--!"

"Of course, someone must rule the Goblins, and I can not, from the High Court, not effectively. Tell me, who would you say is most capable, of all beings you know who live?" His eyes probed hers, a smile mixed amid the pain.

Realization blossomed on Sarah's face. "Yes."

"Then, the decree shall read, by order of her Ladyship, the High Queen Sarah, in acknowledgement of the service done for the crown in dispatching the traitor, Emilek, son of the former king, and also killer of the same, Lady Moira is hereby given Rule of the Goblin Lands for all time."


End file.
